


Bound By Symmetry

by dfotw



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Or Is It?, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dfotw/pseuds/dfotw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's sceptre strikes Tony an inch to the right of the arc reactor. Now Loki has his flying monkey... or does he?</p><p>
  <em>“Trying to take over Earth is the galactic equivalent of starting a land war in Asia. You'll never get away with it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Complete</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbeta'd, but an endless amount of gratitude goes to [Siguna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Siguna/pseuds/Siguna) for her endless patience, constant encouragement, opportune help, and insightful feedback, and also to [punsrus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/punsrus/pseuds/punsrus), for humouring me.  
> I'd like to dedicate this fic to [Hella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella/pseuds/Hella), though she'll never read this, for writing [Off The Record](http://archiveofourown.org/works/315889) and making me ship this ship.  
> Title is from The Decemberists' _Red Right Ankle_ , but the song I had most in mind as I wrote this fic is [Music Of The Night](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CdaKLzjWq8).  
> The only difference with the film is that, in this fic, Sëlvig has not yet completed the work with the Tesseract by the time Tony flies to Stark Tower after the mess in the Helicarrier; every other bit of movie canon stands.

When Tony approached Stark Tower, he spotted a man tinkering with something metallic at the very top of the building. As he prepared to go and confront his fellow engineer (probably Doctor Sëlvig), he saw Loki himself on the penthouse's terrace, pacing around like he owned the place, and changed his mind. He had a speech he was just itching to deliver, and Sëlvig's work looked like it would take more than five minutes to complete.

His speech, if he had to say so himself, was fantastic, but his guest-slash-squatter didn't seem particularly impressed.

“... and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan,” Loki said with a boyish grin that worried Tony more than pretty much everything else that had happened lately.

“Not a great plan,” he replied, projecting a confidence he didn't feel, like he did every day of his life. “When they come, and they will, they'll come for you.”

“I have an army,” Loki replied.

“We have a Hulk.”

“Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off,” Loki said, mock-surprised.

“You're missing the point.” Tony walked closer because, what the hell. It wasn't as if five yards would save him if it all went so shit. “There is no throne. There is no version of this where you come up on top.”

Loki's lips twitched. Really? A supervillain with a taste for innuendo? Tony thought that was his schtick. Bastard wouldn't throw off his stride, though.

“Maybe your army comes, and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you.” Tony allowed himself a dramatic pause. “If we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn well sure we'll avenge it.”

Having delivered his best line, Tony rewarded himself with a sip of scotch and told himself not to react when Loki advanced towards him, spear in hand. 

“How will your friends have time for me,” wondered the demigod, “when they're so busy fighting you?”

The tip of Loki's spear came to rest almost gently on Tony's chest, not even piercing his t-shirt. There was a flash of blue and Tony closed his eyes because there was ice forming inside his chest, frost settling on his bones and over his heart. He had a moment to wonder if the arc reactor would stand the temperature shock, and then it was gone -both the speartip and the cold- and he could breathe again.

When he opened his eyes, Loki was watching him, spear held loosely at his side.

“So, that's your plan? Make me fight The Avengers?”

“I need to give them a distraction,” Loki said after a moment, and started pacing again.

“While you do what, bring over your army for a sleepover?”

Loki favoured Tony with another thin smile.

“I mean it, that's a terrible plan,” he insisted. “Trying to take over Earth is the galactic equivalent of starting a land war in Asia. You'll never get away with it.”

Loki made a vaguely affirmative sound; he didn't seem to be paying attention at all.

“Listen.” Tony moved to stand in the way of his pacing; Loki stopped just before crashing into him and raised an eyebrow. “Really not a great plan.”

Loki gave him a considering look, tilting his head to one side and smiling slightly.

“You think you can come up with a better one.”

“Give me ten minutes and I can come up with ten better plans.”

“I still need the so-called Avengers distracted.”

“And making me fight them might distract them for a while, yes, but it's a bit obvious, isn't it?”

“You've never struck me as particularly subtle, Stark.”

Tony bared his teeth in what could pass as a grin under in bad lighting conditions. 

_Fuck you too, Loki,_ he thought. _I'm not the one who goes out wearing antlers._

“Putting me on the opposite corner isn't going to break Fury's heart or make S.H.I.E.L.D. agents cry. You should have poked dear old Cap for that. Half of them are expecting me to go rogue anyway.”

Under any other circumstances, what Loki gave him then would have been an indulgent smile; Tony preferred to think that was what a 'fuck you' looked like in Asgard.

“Fine,” drawled the demigod. “Pour me a drink. You have ten minutes to convince me of your plan before I give Sëlvig the order to go ahead.”

***

Tony Stark had many, many regrets in his life, but he thought that one of those that would haunt him the most was not having at hand the supplies to make Loki a ridiculously colourful, disgustingly sugary drink (tiny umbrella included).

“Rum, grenadine, maraschino cherries, sirops, and definitely tiny umbrellas,” he said.

“Noted, sir,” said JARVIS. “Is there anything else?”

Tony met his own eyes in the mirror. They were brown. Mostly brown. Brown enough. He put on a pair of sunglasses just in case.

“You trust me, JARVIS, don't you? It'd be a damn shame if my own AI didn't trust me, but you do, of course you do.”

There was a pause. JARVIS had enough processing capacity to make NASA weep; it couldn't be anything but intentional.

_Another regret for the list,_ thought Tony. _Giving my AI a sense of the dramatic._

“I do trust you, sir,” said JARVIS. “When you're being yourself, of course.”

Tony turned away from the mirror and smiled.

“That's the sweetest thing you've said to me since you said that my greying temples make me look distinguished.” Tony lowered his voice to a murmur, on the brink of what JARVIS' sensors could pick up. “The glowy alien technology hasn't been invented that can make me do what I don't want to do. The later our guest realises that, the better.”

“I see, sir,” said JARVIS, pitching his voice low to match Tony's. “What will you tell Miss Potts when she arrives?”

“Shit, Pepper!” Tony winced and absently rubbed at his chest. “Pepper is not going to approve of this plan.”

“I doubt it, sir.”

“Pepper should be nowhere near here,” Tony decided. “JARVIS, divert her flight back to DC, find a way of keeping her there. There are things I'm going to have to do that I'd rather she wasn't here.”

“Understood, sir. I'll try my best, but surely I don't need to remind you that Miss Potts is both persistent and resourceful?”

“Yeah, no, I have that very present, believe me. But if we can keep her away for a day or two...”

“Stark!”

“And speaking of demanding vixens with a weakness for one-of-a-kind outfits and telling me what to do with my time.” Tony walked out into the living room. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Don't test my patience.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to mind-control me,” Tony answered. “You would've liked Rogers better, I bet. At least he would be quiet. Or does that get boring?”

Loki gave him a baleful look.

“Not as boring as your mindless chatter.”

Tony grinned, happy to have scored a hit.

“So, tell me why you chose me. My winning personality? My dashing good looks? My good taste in architecture?”

“You have more resources than the rest,” said Loki with a languid shrug. “You are more reckless, too. Easier to catch alone. You came to me, not the other way round.”

It was Loki's turn to grin at Tony's discomfort.

“You're smarter than the rest, too,” he offered offhandedly, like someone petting a dog in passing. “The captain would have been unspeakably tedious, I know the type.”

“Finally something we can agree on,” muttered Tony, fixing his tie to cover the glow of the arc reactor.

“Stark.”

Loki was standing right there when Tony turned around to face him, and from up close, and without the suit, Tony felt more sharply the differences between them. The skin around the arc reactor tingled unpleasantly and Tony had to force himself not to flinch when Loki reached up to slide his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.

“I can feel you, Stark,” said Loki, his voice low, his eyes on Tony's. “I'll know the moment your thoughts turn away from me. And you will not like my reaction if you do.”

As if there was a chance he'd forget, even for a second, what he was doing.

“Possessive, aren't we?” Tony forced himself to say through a suddenly dry throat.

“More than you'll ever know.” Loki slid Tony's sunglasses back into place, then rested his hand gently against the side of Tony's face. “Go and show me what you can do. I'm willing to be impressed.”

_Fucking bastard,_ thought Tony, feeling his heart beat a crazy tattoo inside his chest. _I'll be damned if I let you see how much you scare me._

“Don't wait up,” he said, making himself move away. “Oh, and try not to break anything. In doubt, ask JARVIS to tell you which button to push, I know you alien types aren't great at working the microwave.”

And with a jaunty wave, Tony fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, happy flailing, or suggestions.  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's sceptre strikes Tony an inch to the right of the arc reactor. Now Loki has his flying monkey... or does he?
> 
> _“It didn't work. Loki thought it did, I let him believe it did, but it didn't. I'm here now, aren't I? I'm telling you this instead of going all gun-happy like Barton.”_   
>  _“How do you plan to keep Loki distracted?”_   
>  _“Whoa. If you have any suggestions that don't involve lingerie, I'm all ears. Otherwise, I'll treat this like a board meeting and bullshit my way through it.”_

“You did what?!”

“The shouting might work well in the army, Rogers, but I'm a civilian consultant, so keep it down.”

“Stark, this isn't...”

“It didn't work!” Tony shouted, and the room went satisfyingly quiet.

There was Black Widow, perched on the edge of a chair, and Barton, spread out on his seat as if he didn't have a care in the world (though the tension on his shoulders said otherwise), and Rogers, standing next to Tony, and Thor, sitting on a chair that looked too small for him, and Bruce, in dusty, borrowed clothes. And Fury, looming in a corner of the room.

Tony had to admit he was impressed with himself. Not only had Loki agreed to not make nothing explode yet, but The Avengers had -equally reluctantly- agreed to stand down enough to meet with Tony in a sad office building that S.H.I.E.L.D. had either commandeered for the occasion or that was one of its more boring façades. 

_Note to self: follow JARVIS' cues more often._

“It didn't work,” he repeated after the dramatic pause had gone long enough. “Loki thought it did, I let him believe it did, but it didn't. I'm here now, aren't I? I'm telling you this instead of going all gun-happy like Barton.”

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to have you back on the team, Katniss,” Tony replied, not missing a beat.

“Why wouldn't it have worked?” asked Bruce. “It's always worked before.”

“There's always a first time for performance issues, Doctor Banner...”

“Stark, this isn't a joke.”

“You think I don't know that?!” Tony whirled round to face Fury. “I'm the one offering to play double agent for fucking alien overlord, I know this isn't a joke!”

“My brother isn't...”

“Shut up,” said Tony, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just shut up.”

Thor went obligingly quiet. Tony took a deep breath.

“I think it was because of the arc reactor,” he said without looking up.

“The what?”

“Arc reactor.” Tony gestured vaguely at his chest. “Experimental. Keeps my heart ticking the way it should. Top-secret technology, no, you can't look at it. I think it interfered with the signal from Loki's Glowstick of Destiny.”

“If it's the same as...” Bruce's gaze turned considering, and he nodded slowly. “It's possible.”

_Buddy, when this is all over, I'm going to kiss you._

“We're still disabling your suit.”

“You're what?!” Tony turned again to Fury, not having to pretend to look murderous. “First of all, it's hardly working because I tried to fix your Helicarrier with it, and...”

“Stark, I'm not leaving something like that on the hands of someone who's possibly compromised. Throw all the tantrums you want, it isn't happening.”

“... and secondly you can't disable it because it's mine and it's in my penthouse and I'm not going to give you access to it so you can take it away from me...”

“We have implanted a code that allows S.H.I.E.L.D. to disable it from a distance.”

“Security breach!” Tony squawked, and fuck if that didn't sting. Not that they didn't trust him (because who the Hell trusted him?), but that they'd managed to get that past him; he wondered for a moment if Pepper had helped them, but that hurt more -and worse, brought memories of Coulson.

For form's sake, Tony argued five minutes more, until he almost thought Fury would give up.

“Well, I'm not giving you the real access codes. You can disable it, but you can't use it.” Tony crossed his arm over his chest and tried not to twitch when something glinted at his wrist. “Are you really going to throw me back there unarmed?”

Rogers cleared his throat then.

“What?” asked Tony. 

“I don't think you should go back there.”

“Oh my God, what are you going to do, arrest me?”

“It's dangerous!”

“I know! What, you think you're the only one who can do stuff that's dangerous?”

“No! I...”

Rogers looked away and the bottom of Tony's stomach dropped.

_What a time you chose to become a real boy, Cap._

“You're worried,” he said flatly. “You're worried about me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defensively, as if he expected Tony to mock him for his concern, which, granted, wasn't exactly outside the realm of possibility, considering their previous interactions. But Tony didn't want to joke now, not when Captain America didn't want to meet his eyes.

“You've said it yourself, you're a civilian consultant. You shouldn't have to do this.”

“Well, try telling that to Loki.” Tony held his breath briefly; for a moment, arguing with Steve, he'd forgotten about the demigod waiting for him back in Stark Tower.

“So, what's the plan?” asked Black Widow, blessedly pragmatic as always.

“I go back,” sighed Tony. “And try to keep Loki distracted while you figure out a way to neutralise whatever it is he's planning.” He laughed mirthlessly, aware of how little they had to go on. “Don't you just love it when a plan comes together?”

Clint snorted disdainfully. Steve was in the middle of a staring match with Fury. Bruce was watching Tony, contemplative.

“How do you plan to keep Loki distracted?” asked Natasha.

“Whoa. If you have any suggestions that don't involve lingerie, I'm all ears. Otherwise, I'll treat this like a board meeting and bullshit my way through it, maybe throwing in a couple of gadgets to sweeten the deal.”

“My brother won't be taken in by lies, or baubles,” Thor warned him.

“You haven't seen me lie,” Tony said, giving him the toothy grin feared in boardrooms worldwide. “And the things I can give Loki, not even your strange alien mind would call 'baubles'.”

Tony paused, afraid he'd said something that would be taken the wrong way.

“As if he needed help to make things explode,” said Fury, but he sounded resigned. “Don't make things worse, Stark. Buy us some time, but nothing more. And try to get in contact with us when you think it's safe to do so.”

“That's it? Not even a 'good luck' hug?” Tony asked, well-aware that he didn't sound as sarcastic as he would have liked.

A heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder. Tony didn't dare to look up to Steve, and the fear that the man would see a glimmer of blue in his eyes was the least of it.

“Good luck,” Steve said, and fuck it if he didn't sound earnest. “This is something very brave you're doing.”

_This would be more reassuring if I didn't know just how many times you've said the same thing to soldiers who didn't come back._

“Thanks,” Tony said instead, and cleared his throat. “For the vote of confidence.”

He was nearly out of the room when someone called after him.

Bruce caught up with him halfway down the corridor. Tony beckoned until they were standing behind a wilting potted palm, where Tony hoped they would be somewhat safe from whatever cameras and bugs S.H.I.E.L.D. might have installed on such short notice.

“Bruce,” Tony said, putting his hands on the man's shoulders. “I'm not coming back.”

“Tony...”

“Hear me out.” Tony took a deep breath. “What I just gave them in there... I'm not opposed to laying my life down for my country, but I'd rather not do it from an operating table. You know them. I'm one 'desperate times' quote from Natasha breaking out her dissection kit.”

“I know,” Bruce said.

“Exactly. But you have your own big, green method of defence. I'll be lucky if I can get out of here as it is, since they took the suit away from me.”

“You don't have another?”

“None of the previous models are operational right now,” answered Tony, somewhat truthfully. “With some time, I might put something together, but I don't think that's going to be Loki's priority right now.”

Bruce, wonderful individual that he was, didn't argue.

“What does he want from you?”

Tony let out what he had to admit was a rather hysterical giggle.

“I don't know, and I'm not exactly looking forwards to finding out.” He ran a hand through his hair, straightened up. “Listen, I'll send you the access codes to my files, I don't know what else I can do. I trust you to use them well, whatever happens. Even if I'm not here to see it. Try your best, I'll do the same, and maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle.”

Bruce nodded shortly.

“Be careful,” he said. And, after Tony had stepped out from behind the potted palm. “I wouldn't let them get you, you know?”

“Bruce.” There was a right answer for that, Tony knew, but it seemed to be stuck in his throat. “I'm not asking you to...”

“I know,” Bruce interrupted with a smile that said he could tell exactly how out of his depth Tony was. “I'd still do it, if necessary.”

_Make me feel a little more undeserving, buddy, and I might just crumple under the weight of my own self-doubt._

Instead of giving an answer he knew would be unworthy, Tony just raised his hand and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

When Tony went back to the penthouse, everything was quiet. The air froze in his lungs and his arc reactor (or was it his heart?) gave a little jolt as he stood in the empty living room.

_Did I fuck this up already?_

“Don't worry,” a familiar voice called from his bedroom. “I haven't started without you.”

Tony breathed again, pausing on the doorway to his bedroom to watch Loki stand up from between the rumpled bedclothes. It wasn't that Tony hadn't thought about it, because he thought about it with everyone he met, but the reality of it seemed rather more daunting than Tony liked to admit.

“That armour can't be comfortable to sleep in,” he said, because he lived in some fucked-up universe where that was a less dangerous thing to blurt out than the babble of relief caught half-way up his throat.

Loki paused, raised his eyebrows, and grinned, a gesture that was all teeth; Tony's skin made a valiant attempt to crawl right off his body.

“Your concern is touching.” Loki walked to stand right into Tony's personal space, and put a gentle hand on the back of his neck; he pressed his forehead to Tony's and spoke in a low, intimate voice, “You did well. They are distracted. You did well, don't panic.”

Tony panicked a bit more, just because he was a contrary bastard. The small flicker of pride in his chest feel foreign, but Tony didn't know if it was because he'd received sincere praise so seldom or because it was Loki who'd put the feeling there.

“They disabled my suit, the bastards!” he said, choosing a somewhat safe thing to worry about.

“They did, did they? They don't trust you as much as they should.”

“I have another,” said Tony, showing Loki the bracelets on his wrists.

“Of course you do,” Loki chuckled, and reached out to trace the metal with the tip of a bone-white finger.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Hm.”

Loki seemed to enjoy Tony's helpless shiver when Loki's fingers stroked the vulnerable spot on the back of his neck. After a moment of this, the demigod stepped back and picked up a Stark tablet from between the sheets.

“Read this.”

Tony stared at the proffered tablet for a moment (how had Loki done this? Thor was still having trouble with doors, for fuck's sake!).

“I don't like being handed things,” he said automatically.

“Take it,” snapped Loki, his face going suddenly, terribly still.

Tony's hand shot out and took the tablet before he realised what he was doing.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“I...” He looked down. “How the hell did you find this?”

“As you advised me before leaving, I asked your servant which buttons to push,” Loki answered, his smile almost sweet again; if it weren't for the memory of that terrible stillness and his voice cracking like a whip against Tony's mind...

“That's... JARVIS. Well done, I mean.”

“Thank you, sir,” said JARVIS. “Master Laufeyson was very specific as to what information he wanted.”

“I can see that,” Tony said faintly, looking at the tablet's display again.

***

Time passed in a blur. There was a timer on the back of Tony's mind (next to the part of his self that couldn't stop gibbering 'what the fuck are you doing?!') which dutifully ticked down the time until Fury's patience ran out, until Bruce had a breakthrough, until Pepper circumvented JARVIS' obstacles, until Loki grew impatient or bored, but Tony couldn't stop working long enough to pay any attention to it.

Loki turned out to be a surprisingly thorough master. He watched Tony like a hawk and demanded explanations for everything; this would have been more irritating if he hadn't been so quick on the uptake and if his suggestions hadn't tended towards the impressively devious.

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” Tony breathed out, watching the results of their latest scheme scroll down one of the displays around them.

Loki smiled, looking oddly pleased with the compliment; he was holding a mug of coffee and a plate of fried rice. He met Tony's eyes and offered him both things.

Tony's mouth tasted like ice, but he only hesitated a moment before reaching out and taking them. He then dropped them onto the coffee table as if they burned, but Loki still gave him an approving smile.

“Eat,” the demigod said, sitting on the sofa next to Tony and grinning at the news report on another of the screens.

“Digestion slows my thinking processes.”

“Your thinking processes won't be worth much if you faint from hunger and exhaustion. I can't keep sustaining you forever.”

“I'm not going to pass out for not eating in 24 hours,” scoffed Tony, reaching for what was left of the coffee after his unceremonious reception of it. “Wait, you're doing what?”

“Proof that you're not at your sharpest...” Loki smiled and ran his hand through Tony's hair; Tony fought not to drop his head back, but he couldn't help the shiver as something deliciously cold went through him.

_Oh yeah, definitely more awake now. Fuck._

“Is that what you've been doing with all the... touching?”

A hand on his shoulder as Loki leaned in to see something, or ruffling his hair as he sat hunched over a tablet. Fingers skimming across the back of his neck as Loki walked past, or resting at his waist as he explained the intricacies of the stock market. Loki leaning into him as they both stood side by side, reading from the same display, or pressing against his back as he looked over Tony's shoulder.

“What else? A gesture of affection?” Loki laughed, sharp and cold. “Eat, Stark. We're not done yet.”

***

“Am I like Barton?”

The thing was, Tony knew he was slipping. He knew it like he knew if there was a piece in the suit not responding as it should, like he could tell there was a lag in the system without needing to run a full diagnostic.

He'd spoken to Pepper, after JARVIS had told him he was running out of excuses. He didn't remember very well what he'd said (wired on adrenaline and too much coffee and the press of Loki's hand on the small of his back), but he remembered the tightness of her voice; their goodbyes had been curt and Tony didn't think she was in a hurry to leave DC any more.

Which was good. Which was what he wanted. Keep her away, keep her safe while he dealt with the things that could hurt her. It was just easy to forget, with Loki's presence permeating everything, taking over all the available space in his mind.

He'd also spoken to Bruce. His mind had been clearer then. He had been waiting for some results to finish processing, and Loki had wondered off to stare at the massive world map JARVIS was projecting for him over one of the windows.

Bruce had sounded tired over the noise of other people hurrying around him.

“The thing you told me about before you left...” Bruce had said after they exhausted the issue of how impossible it would be to replicate the arc reactor's effects on a large scale in less than twenty-four hours.

“Using carbon allotropes for the casing?” Tony had asked at once, seamlessly, more adept than Bruce at speaking when other people were listening.

“Yeah.” Bruce had huffed what could be a breath of laughter, or a sigh. “That was good. You should definitely look into that.” A pause had followed; when he spoke again, Bruce sounded almost dreamy. “In fact, I think I'll look into it too.”

_I'm not coming back... I wouldn't let them get you, you know?_

“That's good,” Tony had managed to say. “Yeah, I'll send you all the data I have on that, I'm pretty sure there are a couple of papers that will interest you.”

“Yeah. You do that,” Bruce had said softly before hanging up.

Now, Loki turned away from the map and looked at him.

“Am I like Barton?” Tony repeated.

“You are nothing like Barton.”

Loki walked closer and rested his hand on the back of Tony's neck. Even though it hurt, Tony took a deep breath; Loki smelled like ice and ozone and metal.

“You are very unusual, Stark,” Loki's voice rumbled; Tony let his eyes fall closed. “And the staff, it touches everyone differently.”

“So, what am I?”

Loki chuckled; Tony could feel the vibrations against his chest, where the arc reactor glowed like a nightlight for a child afraid of the dark.

“I have known maidens with their hair still in braids more subtle than you at asking for compliments, Stark... but I will say it, you have earned it. You are, indeed, special.”

Tony didn't want to hear any more. He opened his eyes, closed the space -barely an inch- that separated them, and then they were kissing. Loki tasted of ice and ozone and metal, yes, but there was an underlying sweetness to him that Tony couldn't help but chase when Loki parted his lips and began to kiss back.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked when they drew apart; he seemed short of breath, angry, and his lips were kiss-swollen. It was one Hell of a look on him, Tony had to admit.

_Distraction tactics! Distraction tactics!_

“We need to get Bruce out of there,” he panted.

“... what? Are you talking about the beast?”

“Don't call him that,” snapped Tony, his heart still going a hundred miles a minute, his lips feeling numb. “His name is Doctor Bruce Banner and he's more brilliant than ninety-nine percent of the people in this planet and, I'd bet, in yours too. And I don't know what S.H.I.E.L.D. are doing or planning to do, but we have to help him.”

“Now you *are* trying to appeal to my humanity, are you not?”

“Well.” Tony huffed a brief laugh. “It's not as if I can threaten you now.” He licked his lips, watched Loki's eyes track the movement. “Or bribe you.”

Loki seemed mostly confused now, which was infinitely preferable to anger and, Tony thought, more conductive to negotiations.

“Bruce was willing to fight S.H.I.E.L.D. for me,” he added. “Now, he wants out and I'm the guy who can help him. And he's a force to be reckoned with, believe me, even if he just sits this one out, you'll be glad you don't have to fight him...”

“Even if he... ?” Loki started to say, his eyebrows rising.

“I don't think the Glowstick will work on the Hulk,” Tony was quick to interrupt. “But some goodwill might work even better. Trust me, S.H.I.E.L.D. haven't done that and they will come to regret it.”

Loki looked at Tony, frowning slightly. Tony stared back, trying not to twitch with impatience.

_Come on, you bastard. Show me how special I am._

“Very well." Loki nodded. "You may recover the Hulk from S.H.I.E.L.D. I will even provide assistance, if you need it. But should he or his beast form try to interfere with our plans in any way, I will put an end to his life and I will make him thank me for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, happy flailing, or suggestions.  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

“Of all the bad ideas you might potentially have had...”

“What exactly were you doing there?”

Bruce and Loki exchanged a look of shared frustration and disbelief over his head; Tony had a terrible feeling about that.

“Hey, hey, no ganging up on the guy bleeding all over the sofa!”

“You wouldn't be bleeding if you hadn't insisted on going there unarmed,” Loki told him, utterly unsympathetic except for where his hand was holding a bandage to Tony's side.

“Because the Iron Man suit is so subtle?” Tony snarked back; that comment of Loki's still stung.

“Seriously, Tony?” Bruce asked, reaching for the disinfectant. “I could have gotten out of there by myself... well, the Other Guy could have.”

“Yes, but would you have? You need a push from time to time, buddy... ouch!”

Tony glared. Bruce looked up from the cotton ball he held, innocently. Loki's lips twitched in what almost might have been a smile.

“Besides,” Tony continued, undeterred by the pain of the disinfectant on his wound, although not missing the opportunity to lean more heavily into Loki, “where would you have gone? S.H.I.E.L.D. found you before.”

“And they won't find me here, in the... loudest building in New York?”

“Do not insult the spectacular design and architecture of the single most advanced building in the world-”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot access this tower in any way,” Loki interrupted, more-or-less directly addressing Bruce from the first time since Tony's improvised rescue. “As long as you stay within, you will be safe. From S.H.I.E.L.D., at least.”

Bruce seemed unfazed by the unsubtle threat in Loki's words; he met the demigod's eyes evenly and nodded after a pause that felt eternal to Tony.

_The likelihood that these two will try to kill each other has now dropped to a very respectable 87%. Halle-fucking-lujah._

“I helped!” Tony said, because he liked attention, and the more attention that was paid to him, the less Bruce and Loki had to add to the tension in the room. “I'm pretty sure JARVIS and I have rooted out all the S.H.I.E.L.D. bugs in the system.”

“Including the one they put on your suit?” asked Bruce, putting the finishing touches on Tony's wound.

“Haven't started working on that one yet,” Tony admitted, and Bruce raised his eyebrows at this uncharacteristic delay, but didn't say anything.

“So, thank you for the extraction.” Bruce turned, put everything back on the first aid kit, and closed it. “Tony, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Tony could feel Loki going tense by his side (well, everywhere; Loki was virtually wrapped around him) and didn't answer immediately, looking up to make sure that the demigod wasn't about to do something about the way the tension in the room had rocketed.

“Tony,” repeated Bruce, and when Tony glanced back at him, there were glimmers of green in his eyes.

Tony thought of the way he had taken to avoid his own eyes in the mirror, of the sparks of blue he sometimes thought he saw in there, and felt the weirdest urge to pull Bruce into a hug. He didn't, mostly because Loki's arm was slung -heavy and warm- over his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, then realised that he couldn't. He couldn't tell Loki to get up and leave them alone. The pause stretched, eternal, as Tony fought to find some words that would get past the icy pressure in his chest.

Bruce was leaning forwards, tense. Loki's arm tightened around Tony for a moment (warning or reassuring him? It was impossible to tell) and then the demigod extricated himself from where he was holding Tony and stood up, nodding slightly at Bruce before walking out of the room.

“Tony, what's going on?”

Tony let himself fall back down on the sofa, stealing one last look at the door through which Loki had left; he felt bruised and tired and so, so very cold.

“I don't know,” he sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand that smelt of smoke and blood.

“Tony...” Bruce lowered his voice and hunched closer. “Are you being mind-controlled?”

“No,” he answered at once. “Mostly no.”

“Mostly?” asked Bruce, his eyebrows shooting up.

“There are a few things,” Tony admitted, flexing the traitorous hand that would take anything that Loki offered him. “Nothing important, but...”

“But?”

“That's the other reason I wanted you here. Not that I'm not an extremely generous guy who will arrange extractions for his friends when they need them, but I trust you. I trust you to watch my back and to hit me really hard on the head if necessary. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Tony thought the expression of discomfort on Bruce's face was because the man was as good at talking about feelings as Tony himself, but he realised he was wrong when Bruce spoke again.

“Tony, is he...? Is he making you do anything you don't want to?”

“Apart from taking over the world?” Tony laughed. “Bruce, no. I know what it looks like, I know there's a lot of touching, and yeah, maybe under different circumstances I'm not saying I wouldn't, but, no, it's an Asgardian thing. Or a Loki thing, I'm not really sure. It's like caffeine, only better because it doesn't get cold and you don't have to stop to look for the sugar. I'd offer you a try, except I don't think The Hulk or Loki would be into it.”

Bruce snorted softly, but he seemed reassured by Tony's babbling, enough to let go of the subject.

“So, what are you doing?”

“Well, Loki has Sëlvig and the Tesseract locked up for now.” Tony gave Bruce what he hoped was a significant look. “But mostly we're trying to take over a few armies that don't need cosmic portals. Like Russia, stuff like that. Just passing the time. What about you? What was Uncle Fury planning that was so offensive?”

“Dissecting you was one,” Bruce admitted. “And apparently the Council is thinking of dropping a nuclear bomb over Stark Tower, too.”

Tony blinked once, twice, three times.

“You're not joking.”

Bruce shrugged.

“I'm not exactly known for my sense of humour.”

“Jesus.” Tony tried to take a deep breath past the icy constriction in his chest. “What did the others say about that?”

“Barton is all for the nuclear option and 'shooting that fucker in the dark'. Romanoff...” Bruce shrugged again. “Steve is not pleased.”

“He wouldn't be, would he?” muttered Tony, but he didn't sound as snarky as he'd wished.

“He's worried about you.” Bruce smiled at some private joke. “And he's opposed to anything that results in civilian casualties. The thought of a bomb dropping on New York upsets him.”

“Of course it does. No chance he'll volunteer to fly this one into a glacier too, right?”

Bruce ignored him.

“If there were an option that didn't involve nuclear bombs or millions of civilians dying, the Captain could be persuaded.”

Tony stared at Bruce, wide-eyed.

“Are you suggesting we corrupt the very symbol of freedom and the American way? Am I Darth Vader all of a sudden? Do we have cookies at hand, JARVIS? The Dark Side is supposed have cookies.”

“He hates it there. No one listens to him, and Barton and Romanoff are not the kind of soldiers he's used to.” Bruce shrugged. “If you and I are not going back to S.H.I.E.L.D., he's going to be there alone. Do you want that for him?”

_Why am I being asked this? Rescuing Captain America is what I wanted when I was four, not forty!_

But if Steve did come across, if they could brush S.H.I.E.L.D. off without worrying about friends being left behind...

“Bruce, I could kiss you.”

“I'd rather you didn't,” said the other man, but he did look a bit pleased with himself. “You're still a bit singed around the edges.”

“I'm not the only one who needs a shower, buddy. JARVIS, do we have a room ready for our guest?”

“Yes, sir. Doctor Banner, if you'll follow my directions.”

Tony waved Bruce off (he looked like he needed not only a shower, but a hot meal, a good night's sleep, and several years of therapy) and considered getting up too. A shower, some food, industrial amounts of coffee, and then he could get back to work: wrestling control of nuclear weapons away from S.H.I.E.L.D. and its allies was now top priority; the idiots probably hadn't even considered what would happen when the nuclear explosion took down the arc reactor in Stark Tower.

_East Coast, get ready to meet your Maker._

Clever fingers sank into his hair and a refreshing wave of cold ran into his blood; Tony tipped his head back and groaned, dignity all but forgotten.

“Never stop doing that.”

Loki smiled, sliding onto the sofa.

“You didn't tell your friend everything.”

“Were you listening?”

“I noticed the distinct lack of property damage.”

Tony smiled, and thought of the taste of ice, ozone and metal; he thought of Loki, lips kiss-bruised, eyes sparkling with anger. How Bruce would take some of the more lurid details of Tony's acquaintance with Loki, he didn't want to think.

Then again, how Loki would take the plans he was making with Bruce also didn't bear thinking about. Tony considered speaking out for all of one second, then decided that not only was discretion the better part of valour, it'd be a good idea to test just how much he could keep from Loki, even with those clever fingers in his hair and those cold lips on his neck.

_'Not a gesture of affection' my ass. I'd bet all my suits that I'm not the only one whose integrity has been compromised._

“There's a lot more to Bruce than The Hulk, you know?” he said after a long while, trying to get his breath back.

Loki hummed in the way he did when he wasn't listening to Tony, but his fingers were soft on Tony's scalp and his kiss-bruised lips were relaxed.

“Will you need help washing?”

Tony blinked and tilted his head to look at Loki, stretched beside him on the sofa like a tiger; as usual, his first reaction was fear, swiftly followed by anger, and then a shock of cold as both those feelings were doused under the weight of the situation and the foreign pressure of something that felt a lot like fondness. Loki waited, a mock-patient smile on his lips and a challenge in his eyes.

“Are you offering?” asked Tony, never one to back down, not even if he was caught in the most dangerous game of gay chicken ever.

In spite of the obvious innuendo (or the even more uncharacteristic offer of help), Loki looked strangely thoughtful when he stared back down at Tony.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I suppose I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

“Paranoia,” said Tony, “is a wonderful thing.”

He crammed the last bit of pizza into his mouth, crust and all, and chewed while watching JARVIS put the finishing touches in the morning's (afternoon's? evening's?) work.

“You can't just grab a nuclear warhead from a crate and load it on a plane. Those suckers have more security codes, fail-safes and hoops to jump through than Romanoff's porn collection.”

Bruce snorted softly from where he was sitting, not looking up from the Stark tablet Tony had pressed into his hands as soon as he appeared.

“And now those suckers are mine. Let Uncle Fury try to get his hands on one of them, and he'll see more Blue Screens of Death than a granny using Vista. The Department of Defence should know better than to go with the lowest bidder for their security system.”

Loki walked into the workroom and Tony turned on his stool, maybe expecting some praise or -at the least- acknowledgement. Instead, he got Loki imperiously pointing at one of the screens, which JARVIS (the traitor) obediently switched on.

“I would advise you to see this, Doctor Banner.”

And fuck, Tony didn't even have time to worry about Loki and Bruce interacting and the damage this could mean to his workshop, because JARVIS helpfully turned up the volume on the news report that was just coming to an end.

“... authorities are aware of the danger, after the events in Harlem some eighteen months ago, and recommend that civilians stay well away and call this dedicated hotline if there is a sighting or they have any useful information.”

Bruce's face was carefully blank, but Tony could see the glimmers of green in his eyes.

“What the fuck are they doing?" he exclaimed. "I kidnapped you, buddy, there was a lot of property damage to prove it, why are they talking as if The Hulk was out there looking to wreck Harlem again? And that's seriously not a good angle on you, by the way.”

“I...” Bruce huffed, but his shoulders were still tense under his borrowed shirt. “You might have 'kidnapped' me, Tony, but they know that, well, that I wouldn't have stayed kidnapped if I really hadn't wanted to.”

“Maybe Loki developed a way to contain the Hulk!” Tony protested. “They don't know what happened, jumping straight to publicly labelling you a fugitive from justice is fucking irresponsible!” 

“Because S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government have always been so kind to me,” Bruce replied, and Loki snorted softly, not in derision, but with amusement.

“They obviously don't feel they can take any chances,” agreed Loki; then, as if he relished the idea, he added, “Very soon it will be you, Stark, who is publicly labelled a threat.”

“They tried that once before and it didn't stick,” Tony muttered.

“Oh, and there was a flying object buzzing around the terrace,” said the demigod. “I believe that it was trying to spy on us.”

“Was?”

“I have taken the liberty of picking up the remains, in case you want to examine them, sir,” JARVIS cut in. “It seems like a standard drone, from what I can ascertain.”

“Right. You think they got any readings on Bruce?”

“I should think not, sir. Master Laufeyson's response was immediate.”

Loki seemed almost smug at this, looking at his sceptre like Black Widow would look at her knives. Tony glanced away, feeling uncomfortable. There were aches and pains all over his body that had nothing to do with Bruce's rescue: finger-shaped bruises on his hips, a bite-mark on his shoulder, the ghosts of icy fingers over his skin, the traces of cold lips on his own lips. He tried to turn his attention back to his work, but the corner of a crumpled pink post-it note under the desk caught his eye.

_This is worse than the strawberries. Pepper will take one look at me and know, and what kind of woman would believe that I took a demigod to bed for her own safety?_

“Fuck,” sighed Bruce, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Tony was jolted back to the most pressing problem at hand.

“Don't worry, they won't get inside Stark Tower. And when this is done, we'll make them grovel and apologise publicly.”

Bruce gave him an odd look, but Tony was already turning back to his work. The faster they were done, the faster his life could go to pieces.

“Sir, there's an incoming call for you.”

_Did I summon Pepper just by thinking about her? I will give myself a lobotomy if that's what it takes to keep her out. It won't be worse in her eyes than what I've already done._

“Do I look like I want to be on the phone right now, JARVIS?”

“It's Captain Rogers, sir.”

Swallowing bitter relief, Tony very carefully kept his eyes away from Loki, telling himself he didn't want to ask for permission or watch for a reaction.

“Steve?”

“Tony?”

“Come on, Cap, I know you know how phones work.”

There was a huff that might have been a laugh.

“Tony, Bruce is...”

“Where are you calling from, Cap?” Tony interrupted.

“Erm, a payphone? I'm not... I'm not with S.H.I.E.L.D. right now.”

“Captain Rogers is calling from a Van Wagner operated payphone near 14th Street, sir,” confirmed JARVIS without prompting. “Re-routing the call to a more secure connection.”

“Tony, can you talk? Bruce is missing.”

“I know, Cap, I watch the news too.”

“Don't you...? Tony,” Rogers said reproachfully.

“I'm sure Bruce is fine, Cap,” Tony said, giving a look to Bruce, who shot him a 'really?' look over his glasses.

“You don't know that!” Steve snapped; and then, softer, “Do you?”

Tony looked unseeingly at the display in front of him.

“I'm sure he's fine,” he repeated.

Steve was silent on the other side of the line for a moment.

“Can we talk?”

“What do you think we're doing right now?”

“Not like this. Tony...” The blare of a car horn almost masked Steve's sigh. “Are you alright?”

“Fine!” said Tony at once. “Fantastic, even. You? No, don't answer, I can tell you're fine too. Why wouldn't you be, right?”

“Tony, I need to talk to you. Bruce isn't here and... please.”

Tony didn't need Admiral Ackbar or Loki's restless pacing behind him to suspect the worst; Steve was the perfect bait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to use, earnest and wholesome and determined to do what he thought was best for everyone.

“Alright,” said Tony, somewhat doubtfully. “I'll wait for you, it'll take you about what? Twenty minutes to get here? What does Captain America drink, I'll have one ready for you. Maybe just pure, wholesome water? JARVIS, do we have any water pure enough to quench the thirst of heroes?”

“You want me to go there? To Stark Tower?”

“Well, yes. I'm not meeting you in a Starbucks for TMZ to post the pictures tomorrow. You know where Stark Tower is, don't you? You just have to look up, I'll tell the receptionist to show you right in.”

“But Tony...”

“Don't be late!”

JARVIS obediently cut the call when Tony gave him the signal.

“Tony...”

“Stark...”

“... what are you doing?” chorused two voices.

“It's really disconcerting when you both disapprove of me in unison, you know? It's like Rhodey and Pepper, except that... no, you know what, erase that thought.” Tony stared contemplatively at a display for about one and a half seconds. “JARVIS, when Captain Rogers shows up, please do a full body scan before he's given three steps in, will you? I want to know how many bugs, trackers and vaccines S.H.I.E.L.D. have placed on him before he's even in the elevator.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are going to allow Captain Rogers here, knowing that in all probability he was sent by S.H.I.E.L.D. to test your weaknesses?”

“Test my weaknesses!” scoffed Tony. “Natasha already knows all my weaknesses. And, like I said, JARVIS will make sure nothing S.H.I.E.L.D. has put on Steve does what it's meant to do. What was I supposed to do anyway? Leave Rogers out there in the cold?”

Bruce returned his eyes to his work, but Loki continued looking at Tony, thoughtful in that way he had that made Tony regret whatever he'd said to become the bug pinned under that laser.

“Hm,” said Loki after a minute, turning away, maddeningly unreadable as always.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Tony called out, but Loki was already walking out of the workshop and out of hearing range.

Tony's first instinct was to follow, not just to get an answer, but because of the feeling in his chest, that icy pressure that only let up when Loki was within reach. Heroically, he resisted; no need to make himself look more of a fool in Bruce's eyes, and there was work to be done, security measures to put into place.

“My God, just go,” Bruce huffed from his workspace as Tony knocked over a soldiering iron for the third time in forty-five seconds. “You have ten minutes until Rogers gets here, just go.”

Tony could have made an argument of it, reasserted his rights to be wherever in his goddamn building he pleased, but trying to argue with Bruce was no fun, and there was the pull inside his chest, the restlessness in his bones.

“Fine,” he said, not caring how petulant he sounded. “Only because you asked.”

“Sure,” Bruce laughed, and his posture was relaxed when Tony poked him on the ribs on his way out.

Loki was out on the terrace, prowling like a panther, his hand clenched around his sceptre. He didn't look at Tony at first, not until Tony planted himself in his path like he had in their first meeting.

“Look, I'm sixty-three percent sure that getting Steve here won't be a complete disaster,” he said, a truce offering.

“Are you.” Loki's eyes were restless on the horizon, maybe scanning for more S.H.I.E.L.D. drones, maybe just avoiding Tony.

“Trust me.”

“Trust you?” At last Loki turned his attention to Tony, baring his teeth in a snarl; he crossed the space between them in two strides and gripped Tony's shoulder, leaning close to speak right into his ear. “Why would I need to trust you, Stark? There may be a way out of this situation, but for you, there is no escape from me. I am the one to whom you owe your allegiance, I am the one whom you should trust. Whether you are here willingly or not, you are mine and mine alone, do you understand?”

Tony breathed in deeply through his nose, held his breath for three seconds, breathed out, forcing himself not to shake.

_Don't do this, you bastard, don't try to force my hand, or I will try to bolt and then where will we be?_

“Trust me,” he repeated, his voice as steady as any other day. 

Loki laughed and stepped away; Tony closed his eyes for a second as the icy pain in his chest spiked dangerously.

“Captain Rogers is approaching,” Loki said, walking past Tony into the penthouse. “You'll need to see to your guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give you an idea of what Loki sounds like in that last conversation, [listen to this](http://dfotw.tumblr.com/post/17818561496/imperialimpala-actual-reaction-and-throw-in) (fair warning: you might need a cold shower after).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Steve looked at the small pile of electronics JARVIS had instructed him to extract from his coat, shoes and watch, and sighed.

“I didn't know about any of this.” He grimaced. “Though I shouldn't be surprised, I guess.”

“Cheer up,” Tony offered. “That's probably some of the best gear S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer. Only the best for Captain America.”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” asked Steve, but he sounded tired instead of angry.

He looked lost, standing in the middle of the penthouse's living room, very much the soldier out of time Loki had called him. He was not so much a leader of men outside a combat situation, and Tony found himself feeling sorry for Captain America, as unthinkable as the idea might have seemed to him as a child.

“If there was ever a time to have a sense of humour...” Tony looked up. “JARVIS, where is Steve Rogers right now?”

“In your living room, sir. But if you mean where the tracker he was wearing indicates him to be, Captain Rogers is walking down 46th street after stepping briefly into the foyer of Stark Tower and leaving immediately after.”

“Probably S.H.I.E.L.D. can't spare even an intern to tail you personally, so we should be safe for now.”

_Safe from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interference, which, frankly, is the least of my concerns right now._

Tony looked expectantly at his visitor. Bruce had declined 'giving the Capsicle a surprise', at least until they were sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to use him as a human bomb, and Loki... well, Tony didn't know where Loki was, which made something itch deep inside his chest.

“So, you wanted to talk? Has anyone told you nothing good starts with someone saying 'we need to talk'? You better not give me the whole 'it's not you, it's me' speech, I'm very sensitive...”

“Are you alright?” Steve interrupted.

“Am I...? Yes! I already said I was fine, God, what a way to make a man feel not trusted.”

“It's not that I don't trust you,” Steve said earnestly. “But, listen, you were right.”

“I can safely say I never expected you to say that.”

“Well, you were.” Steve's jaw was tightly set with tension. “I don't know what Colonel Fury is doing, but it isn't right. Do you know they have Thor sedated? Apparently, they couldn't think of any other way to keep him out of the way while...”

“While they detonate a nuclear warhead over Manhattan?”

“I won't let them do that,” Steve said, not bothering to deny it or ask Tony how he knew. “I don't know what I'll do, but I won't let them do that.”

“Yeah, neither will I. It'd be a shame if the neighbourhood got irradiated just after I finished moving in.”

Steve gave him the look -half exasperation and half reluctant respect- to which Tony honestly never expected to get used to.

“Will you help?”

Tony looked away.

“I'll do what I can. My way.”

“And what, exactly, is your way? What are you doing here that...?" Steve paused, took a deep breath, and continued in a less confrontational tone, "I know you're buying us time, and gosh, Tony, don't think for a moment that I don't appreciate the risks you're taking...”

“And what risks would those be, Captain?”

The good news was that Loki wasn't carrying his sceptre. The bad news was that he was smiling, sly and delighted, at Steve's obvious surprise.

“You know very well what I'm talking about,” Steve replied, with more aplomb than Tony would have expected of him, particularly considering he was unarmed; he stole a quick, apologetic glance at Tony, then turned fully towards Loki. “You're controlling Tony to some extent, aren't you? And you can't say you have his best interests at heart.”

“That depends on whether we could agree on what his best interests are,” said Loki, and glanced at Tony, openly amused, patently dangerous.

Tony remembered a hand pressing a bandage to his side, a voice snapping at him to be careful, long fingers carding through his hair as he inexorably fell asleep; he made himself look at Steve instead.

“You don't care for human life, Tony is at a risk just by associating with you,” Steve continued. “How many of the people you've taken with you are still alive? Barton, and only because Miss Romanoff knew what to do. Is Doctor Sëlvig even alive? And Agent Hughes?”

“Yes, and no,” Loki replied.

“And let's not talk about those eighty-two people you killed in the first two days you were in this planet. The agents who died in the Helicarrier.” Steve glanced again at Tony. “Agent Coulson.”

“Ah, no.”

“Pardon?” asked Steve.

“Agent Coulson,” Loki elaborated. “I have no qualms about taking responsibility for the deaths I have caused, but I will not take the blame for those I haven't.”

“Are you saying that you didn't kill Coulson?” Tony intervened, because fuck, Steve might be trying to preserve what he thought was Tony's cover, but this, this was a touchy subject.

“No,” said Loki pleasantly. “I'm saying that Agent Coulson isn't dead.”

“Of course he...” Steve trailed off, looking at Tony with confusion clearly written on his face.

“I grant you, I did impale Agent Coulson, but he shot me, so I think we are even,” Loki continued, perching on the back of a sofa as if they were discussing the weather. “And I assure you, if I had wanted to kill him, I could have. But I didn't. So, he lives.”

“Nick Motherfucking Fury,” Tony said, too angry to bother elaborating further.

Steve's expression shifted to one of dawning dismay.

“He lied to us?”

“Yes,” Loki said, sounding sympathetic. “It seems something he would do. But you don't have to take me at my word. Surely JARVIS can access S.H.I.E.L.D. and know what they have written of Agent Coulson's fate.”

“Right away, Master Laufeyson.”

Steve didn't even look up at JARVIS' voice, too wrapped up in the situation.

“Mark Simmons,” Loki enunciated clearly. “That was what Barton said Agent Coulson's real identity was.”

“Agent Coulson's records have not been updated since the day of his purported death,” JARVIS said. “Searching now for Simmons, Mark. Biometrics and other data are in agreement with those of Agent Coulson. Mark Simmons is on record as being an in-patient at an Army medical facility in New Jersey, starting the day of Master Laufeyson's attack on the Helicarrier; his condition is serious, but stable, and his prognosis is positive.”

Loki smiled.

“For all my reputation, I might yet turn out to be the one who lies the least,” he commented, watching Tony go through the information on Mark Simmons that JARVIS was feeding into one of the tablets at hand.

“Motherfucking Nick Fury,” Tony spat out. “If he fucking thinks he can play us like that, throwing those fucking bloodied cards at us like a fucking magician bringing a dead rabbit out of his fucking hat...”

“I...” Steve looked down at his feet. “That wasn't a nice thing to do to us.”

“That was the fucking worst!” Tony shouted. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and there was an unpleasant tightness in his chest, around the arc reactor. 

He'd been ready to avenge Phil Coulson, ready to cling to his anger and his grief over the man's death like a lodestone, but the knowledge that he'd been played, that he'd been lied to, that Fury had taken that single unselfish feeling and twisted it for his own ends...

“Calm down, Stark.” Loki's voice was like a drink of cold water, like a breath of frozen air. “It was a remarkably heartless tactic, but one that would have probably worked. I don't think Fury cares much for sentiment, not when his position is at risk.”

“No, not his position,” Steve said. “Fury would probably do anything to save the world.”

“No,” Loki drawled. “Not the world, his position of power. What does Nicholas Fury know of my plans? What does he know of my aims? He says he is defending this world, but he is only defending the artefact he stole and the power he can derive from it. Those weapons they have created... for what? For saving? Don't be naïve, Captain. You have known men like those in the past, have you not? Men who would have done anything, manipulated anyone, to keep their hold on powers they could not understand.”

“Fury isn't Red Skull,” Steve told Loki.

“No, not yet. But give him time, Captain. Give him free reign over all those stolen resources. Give him an excuse to, um, bring out the big guns. Under the excuse of protecting this world from an alien threat, what couldn't Nicholas Fury do? And who would oppose him, afterwards, with the Tesseract in his hands and you and your team defending him?”

Loki hadn't stopped smiling since he'd stepped into the room. Tony wanted to hurl things at that cruel, beautiful face, wanted to bite those mocking lips until they bled.

“Perhaps the time has come, Captain, for you to decide which team of liars and killers you are willing to support.”

“You aren't any better than Fury,” Steve told Loki, but the fact that he hadn't stormed out of the room was telling enough.

“I am no worse, either,” Loki answered with a languid shrug. “Captain, you can choose between the man ignoring your opinion and ready to drop a bomb on an innocent city, or someone like me, who, as Stark will tell you, is willing to be persuaded to alter his plans.”

_That'd better not mean what it sounded like, you utter bastard._

“You are free to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and have them... what was the word? Ah, yes, sedate you like they have Thor, when you refuse to follow out their orders.” Loki was pacing now, his long hands punctuating his words; Steve watched him, fascinated, like a small mammal in front of a dancing snake. “Or leave and try your luck on your own, but what is a soldier without brothers-in-arms, hm? You know no one in this world, Captain, you have nothing. If you leave now, at best you'll be able to watch helplessly while others decide the fate of this world you love so much.”

Steve looked away from Loki, at last, and straight at Tony.

_Fuck, what a time to ask for my opinion, Cap. What a time for you to trust me._

“We're doing what we can,” Tony said, because he had to say something. “I'll do what I can. You can be my moral compass, Cap, you'd be great at it.”

Steve looked back at Loki.

“I'm not going to follow your orders.”

Loki laughed, loud and delighted.

“I could make you,” he said conversationally. “Whatever Midgardian filter keeps you young would not keep my sceptre from turning your heart to mine. But I won't,” Loki continued as Steve unconsciously adopted a defensive stance. “I will not, as long as Stark vouches for you. You can help him in his work, make sure we will not devastate any populated cities, whatever you want.”

“There's a catch,” Steve said with complete certainty. “Nothing is ever this easy. There must be a catch.”

“Oh yes.” Loki nodded, still smiling his unsettling predator grin. “There is a catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're more than halfway through!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	7. Chapter 7

“I don't know what I'm doing,” muttered Steve.

“Having second thoughts, Cap?”

“Aren't you?” Steve snapped back.

_Second, third, fourth... I couldn't fund a MIT scholarship to get them to count high enough._

“Keep it down, I have disabled all the bugs in Thor's room, but it won't be much use if someone outside hears you talking to yourself in there.”

The audio rustled with Captain America's exasperated sigh, but he lowered his voice to a murmur again.

“I think I have everything... no, wait, there's a... I don't know what this is. Some sort of bomb shell casing? A lamp?”

“If it looks alien, bring it in, just in case. Of course, probably everything looks alien to you. Try to leave the faucets in place, they had those back in your time, right?”

“Very funny,” muttered Rogers, and there was the noise of him stuffing the alien lamp in his duffel; Tony hoped Steve didn't get back to them carrying a thermos or something equally exotic.

“The corridor is clear, if you're done pillaging,” he said instead. “You know what you have to do, right? I'll sound the alarm as soon as you're out of the room, and you'll have three minutes at best to get out of there.”

“I'm not the one who has trouble following instructions.”

“Do they really let you talk back like that in the army, or am I just special?”

“You're special alright," Steve snorted into his microphone. "I'm leaving the room now.”

“I see you,” said Tony, watching Steve appear -looking like the very definition of guilt- on the S.H.I.E.L.D. security camera he was currently highjacking. “You know which way medical is, right? I'm going to sound the alarm in three... two... one...”

Judging by the wince on Rogers' face as he walked down the corridor, the alarm was as loud and obnoxious as Tony remembered it.

“Bruce, how is it looking outside?” asked Tony.

“The first agents are starting to leave the building,” answered Bruce from his own array of screens. “They don't look very convinced, though.”

“That's because... ah, there it is.”

“Do I want to ask what you just made explode in there?”

“Bastards shouldn't have highjacked my suit.”

“Whatever it was, they're definitely going to have to bring out Thor. The amount of smoke alone, God.”

A minute passed, Tony sipping at his coffee while enjoying the sight of S.H.I.E.L.D. evacuating their temporary base, like panicky ants, amidst a cloud of noxious smoke. He leant back on his chair and looked around; apart from Bruce, his workshop was empty, quiet.

“JARVIS, where is Loki?” he asked, taking care to silence the channels to Rogers and Bruce.

“Master Laufeyson is with Doctor Sëlvig, sir.”

Tony took another sip of coffee to drown the worried, angry feeling skittering up his throat; his bruises twinged and the skin around the arc reactor tingled, and he punched the table in front of him once, carefully not looking at Bruce.

“Any sign of Fury?” he asked.

“No, but I see Subdirector Hill.”

“Even Rogers should be able to duck past her.”

“I see a gurney, too.”

“Yup, that's our guy. Rogers has thirty seconds to appear...”

“I see him.”

“Alright, then. Let's get this show on the road.”

***

“Steve is on his way back, with your brother.”

“Thor is not my brother,” Loki replied at once. 

He was sitting on the edge of Tony’s bed, elbows resting on his knees, his head between his hands; he looked exhausted, drained, defeated. Tony’s chest gave a twinge of sympathy, and it wasn’t the part of him that was wrapped in icy strings of blue light.

_Careful, Tony. Worse than showing fear to a predator is showing sympathy._

“Fine. Steve is on his way back, with the man who calls himself your brother.”

“Fine,” Loki echoed. “Have Thor set up with his belongings in a guest room. I assume he will still be, how do you call it? Sedated?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Good.” Tony watched Loki straighten up, putting on his commanding presence like he put on his armour when he left Tony’s bed. “Did the Captain retrieve Thor’s hammer?”

“Well, you did tell Steve to bring all of Thor’s things, and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s at obeying orders. So, yes, he mentioned the hammer.”

Something complicated passed over Loki’s face; amusement and anger and a horrible, desolate sort of sadness. 

“Of course he did,” he muttered, standing up.

Tony watched Loki smooth his hands down his leather armour, and clenched his own hands into fists, itching to do the same, wanting to touch, wishing his hands could have the same sort of effect on Loki as Loki’s hands had on him. There was something awful and final about Loki’s attitude, something Tony recognised from his own worst days.

“What now?”

“Now you go and see to your new moral compass. I have things to do.”

“At some point, you’re going to have to tell me what you and Sëlvig spend hours doing in there,” Tony said, following Loki out of the room.

“Am I?” Loki’s façade was neatly rebuilt again, his mocking smile flawless; in comparison, the memory of him two minutes before seemed even worse. “Maybe. If you’re good.”

***

“That was completely unnecessary.”

“Everyone's alive and in one piece, Cap, cut it out.”

“We don't need to antagonise S.H.I.E.L.D. more than we already have.”

“Who's antagonising anyone? I was just trying to help you get away with your very discreet shield and whatever you have in that duffel, not to mention the huge blond unconscious guy.”

“There were injured!”

“They were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents! Who'd have shot you without a doubt if they'd known what you were planning! Forgive me for setting up an effective diversion!”

“Alright, can we...?” Bruce made a pacifying gesture from the doorway. “Thor is out. According to the medication schedule JARVIS pulled from the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, he'll be out for at least ten more hours.”

“And then?” asked Steve.

“I just hope he won't destroy anything, I just finished putting the furniture in.”

_Pepper just finished putting the furniture in, choosing every coffee table, every shade of carpet. Twelve percent my ass. Fuck, don't think of her, don't think of what she'll say, don't think of what you'll do._

“Damn it, Tony, take this seriously!”

Steve's exasperation rankled, but under Bruce's reconvening look, Tony sighed. 

“I am taking this seriously, Cap. Unlike some, I can crack and joke and make a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility explode at the same time.”

“And that's what you're going to do? Listen, you asked me here, you said you'd listen to me...”

“I'll listen to you when you start making suggestions instead of just whining.”

“I'm not whining, I'm telling you that you need to rethink some aspects of your plan.”

“What plan? Do you think I have a plan?” Tony laughed. “I'm too busy trying to keep up with Loki to develop a plan.”

“Tony, don't underestimate your influence,” Bruce said. 

“This must be the first time anyone ever tells me I'm underestimating myself.”

“If you hadn't talked to Loki the first day, we'd be at war right now,” Bruce continued. “You have him researching how to infiltrate Earth from within instead of bringing his own alien army. That's a lot.”

“It won't last.” Tony shrugged. “Sooner than later, Loki is going to get tired of waiting. Or Fury will, and then I will have to take over command of the Russian Army and start World War Three to keep things on a manageable scale.”

Steve's jaw set heroically at this.

_Oh, Cap. Look as worried as you want, we all know you'd be much happier if WWIII did start._

“Listen,” Tony said, urgently since Loki's absence gnawed at his calm like a monster out of myth. “Loki wants to take over the world, and he knows that I can do it for him. The only thing I can do for now is to buy time and keep the damage to a minimum while someone else comes up with a way to stop him. Because I? I can't.”

Tony glanced away when both Bruce and Steve looked at him. It hurt to admit his own uselessness, but not even the legendary Stark pride and the icy fist inside his chest was going to stop him from doing what had to be done.

There was a pause, and before Bruce could come up with anything, Tony felt a cold tug at his heart.

“Shit,” he choked out, his hand going to the arc reactor. “JARVIS?”

“Tony, are you alright?” asked Steve.

“Master Laufeyson, Master Odinson, and Doctor Sëlvig have just disappeared, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Did they take the Tesseract with them?” Tony asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, sir. Also, one of the spare arc reactors.”

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

The shores of Uvs Lake, on the border between Mongolia and Russia, were deserted, otherworldy. Tony wondered for a second if that was why Loki had chosen to relocate there, then stomped on the thought before it was fully-formed. 

All of Tony's 'influence', all his plans and his frantic work had been for nothing; the double-agent had been double-crossed, fittingly enough. Loki had wanted to give the Avengers a distraction, and it must have amused him to do so through Tony, playing him while pretending to be played. How the bastard must have laughed when he had Tony under his hands, drunk with kisses and the thought of his own cleverness; it must have been hysterical to him, to nod and act reluctantly impressed when Tony demonstrated his power, while biding his time to get his hands on the only thing he had really wanted: Thor. 

_Fucking touch-starved bastard, with his fucking magic fingers and his fucking armour,_ thought Tony, and he didn't know if he was talking about himself or Loki.

Tony's reaction to Loki's disappearance had been flawless (except for the first two minutes, when he had done nothing but swear up a storm), but what he hadn't told anyone was that he could still feel the strings of ice around his heart, the itch of Loki's absence like a missing tooth in his brain. The disdain he'd felt towards the concept of magic a few days before, the utter certainty of who he was and what he wanted, that had vanished along with Loki. Tony felt exposed, vulnerable; at best he was a puppet, at worst, a bomb waiting to go off.

He tried to focus on his reconnaissance of Uvs Lake instead. Soon the place would be crawling with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, with the tattered remains of the Avengers too. Fury had tried to bitch about it being a UNESCO-protected site for about ten seconds before agreeing that if nuclear bombs had to be dropped anywhere, better the Mongolian desert than Manhattan.

That had been a fun call to make. Tony had almost, almost managed to foist off on Steve instead, but Bruce had disarmed his guilt-tripping at the last second, instead choosing to remind Tony his status as a double-agent was shaky but still standing.

“Fury doesn't know what you've been doing,” Bruce had said. “He wanted time, you bought him time. You bugged Loki and you're locating him as we speak. I'm pretty sure that, even with everything else, you've done better than he expected.”

“Everything else being kidnapping you and Cap. And the fact that I handed Thor to Loki in a silver platter, after making a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility explode.”

“It's not as if S.H.I.E.L.D. were doing anything better to Thor than I believe Loki capable of. Come on, Tony, it's not the time for petty resentments. Loki could be...”

“Are we calling what they've done about Coulson 'petty'?”

“No, but we need S.H.I.E.L.D. If we're going to stop Loki, we need them.” Bruce had sighed. “I'm the last person who wants to see them again, Tony.”

So, Tony had manned up, made the call, and convinced Fury that, in the face of an impending alien invasion, they needed to let bygones and minor counts of domestic terrorism be bygones.

In the end, the sacrifice of Tony's pride (and what remained of his virtue) had bought S.H.I.E.L.D. a handful of days to prepare, and probably saved New York. Not bad, even if Tony was left itching to flay himself alive to get rid of the bruises and the echoes of cold fingers on his skin.

“Iron Man?” Steve asked. 

Tony considered not answering for about one second. He also considered powering down the suit and plunging into the lake to his death, but it seemed such an inefficient way to go.

“Yeah, Cap?”

“Anything yet? Have you got a visual? Our ETA is five minutes.”

“Nothing yet. Is Bruce there? Tell him to recalibrate the Helicarrier's sensors to the background readings in Stark Tower over the last week, JARVIS is sending him the data as we speak. The bastard might be able to hide, but he won't be able to hide the Tesseract, not for long.”

“Roger that. Don't tire yourself out, Iron Man. We'll need you when we get there.”

“Yeah, yeah. You're just jealous I got here faster than you.”

“Why don't you go back to our meeting point now?” 

Steve's voice had lost the commanding edge; he sounded just like he had when he'd been telling Tony that none of it was his fault, that he'd just been taken in by Loki like anyone would have been. That had smarted, because Tony wasn't just anyone and he should have known better than to trust the most beautiful, most ambitious person yet to climb into his bed.

If anyone on Earth could have dealt with Loki, if anyone's life could have prepared them for it, that person was Tony Stark, and what had he done? Fall for Loki's line like a debutante meeting her first cocaine dealer.

“Stark.” Fury's voice was as uncompromising as always, which was its own kind of comfort. “Doctor Banner says he's picking up a spike of readings on the north-western shore, can you...?”

“On my way,” Tony said as the suit's sensors began to blare. “How far away are you? Because I have a feeling you might want to see this.”

“See what?” asked at least three voices.

“Some would say it looks like a laser lightshow, but I have a feeling it's more like the end of the world.”

The column of light opened a huge rip in the sky (though Tony's mind refused to accept that physics were being violated so blatantly on his watch) and he was almost a mile away when the first silver figures began to rain through. Without his prompting, the suit's HUD switched to battle mode.

“Right,” he said, remembering a conversation that seemed to have happened years before. “Army.”

“Tony.” Steve Rogers probably hadn't sounded so sure of himself since World War II. “We're on our way, can you hold them off?”

“I'm flattered, but I don't think my suit has enough ammo for me to hold back an alien invasion on my own.”

Even as he spoke, Tony threw himself into the fray, vaporising one of the things and dodging the debris.

“You better hurry if you want to have any fun,” he said. “Oh no, wait, there's enough fun for everyone and a little bit to save for the morning after, too.”

“Oh, I see it,” said Steve, while in the background Bruce made vague noises of surprise and reluctant admiration.

As more and more aliens continue to pour in, Tony reconciled a little with what he'd done in the last few days; just the fact that this was happening in a desert instead of in the middle of Manhattan was worth a little loss of dignity and the taste of ozone and regret still on his lips.

He banked hard to the left, then corkscrewed sharply upwards.

“Incoming friendly fire, sir,” JARVIS dutifully announced as two creatures above him exploded.

“About time,” Tony called out.

But even with the support of the Avengers and the three fighter jets they had brought with them (plus open fire from the Helicarrier itself), it was quickly apparent that they were doing nothing but inconveniencing the flood of aliens pouring in from the rift in the sky.

“We need to close the portal, or we'll be overrun,” Steve said after a while, even though they had passed 'overrun' a good twenty minutes before. “Iron Man, can you approach the ground and see what you can do?”

It made tactical sense, Tony knew; he was the most manoeuvrable, the best protected, the one who could get there faster and have a chance to inflict some significant damage. It didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't mean there wasn't an odd crawling sensation around the arc reactor as he made his way to the foot of the tower of light, dodging aliens here and there.

It wasn't what he was expecting. There was only Doctor Sëlvig, standing next to a device that looked cobbled together from bits of Tony's workshop and the infamous Tesseract; Tony could also see the spare arc reactor somewhere in there, powering the whole thing. 

“The device as it is is self-sustaining, sir,” JARVIS informed him after a quick scan.

“Shut it down, Dr, Sëlvig,” Tony called out as the man looked up to him, his sparse hair a mess around his head.

“It’s too late!” The man shouted; his eyes were unnaturally blue and Tony simultaneously felt a pang of sympathy and his skin crawling with revulsion. “It can’t stop now. It wants to show us something! A new universe.”

Tony didn't bother pointing out that the new universe's inhabitants seemed to be bent on shooting everything in their sight.

“Stand aside,” he said out of courtesy, preparing to open fire.

When he righted himself, Sëlvig was out for the count and the Tesseract was smugly untouched.

“The barrier is pure energy. It’s unbreachable,” said JARVIS, sounding a little too impressed.

“Yeah, I got that,” Tony snapped, landing to see if he could do something by getting his hands dirty.

“Sir.”

Tony didn't need the warning. He could feel it, something in his chest demanding he turn around.

“Stark.”

Loki was standing there, where he hadn't been before, in full armour, including the ridiculous horned helmet. He held his sceptre in one hand, and in the other he held something that it took Tony a minute to recognise.

“Isn't that the alien lamp Steve got from Thor's room?”

Loki looked down to his hand as if he'd forgotten what he was holding; Tony considered firing the repulsors at him, but decided against it because it'd be no use and he needed to save as much power as he could.

“Did you know that what powers this sceptre is a sliver of the Tesseract?” Loki asked, as if there wasn't a full alien invasion going on above their heads, as if he hadn't played Tony and dropped him the second he'd stopped being useful. “And you know what they say: you can't protect against yourself.”

Tony waited for the punchline, but it wasn't forthcoming. The aliens were too busy above them, and spreading outwards, to perform a timely interruption.

“Are you lying to me again? Of course the answer is 'yes'.”

“I never lied to you,” Loki said, frowning a little, looking almost offended. “You lied to me, constantly, but never I to you.”

“What do you call all this, then?”

Loki shrugged. 

“You knew of my plans from the beginning. I merely proceeded without consulting you on the schedule.”

“You stole one of my arc reactors!”

“The original plan was to use the one in Stark Tower, but you made it clear that you preferred the confrontation not to happen in your own territory.”

“No,” Tony breathed out, shaking his head. “You did not do all of this for me.”

“No,” Loki agreed. “Not all of it.”

Tony wanted to laugh. He also wanted to punch Loki, preferably with the power of the suit behind it. He was momentarily distracted by the sight of a massive alien ship coming out of the rift (bigger than the Helicarrier, all gleaming metal and unnatural angles), and when he looked back down, he had regained his composure some.

_Bigger problems than your latest break-up, Tony._

“So, the only way to stop this is with the sceptre. And I have the feeling you're not going to surrender it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“That I followed my own plan does not mean that I cared not for yours,” Loki said.

“Right now, the last thing you need to worry about is soothing my wounded pride.”

“Think, Stark,” Loki insisted, leaning forwards. “Where are we? What have you done all these days, under my orders?”

“We're in a desert in the middle of nowhere, even though in the last week I've been taking control of an army or two so you wouldn't have to call up these guys.”

Loki shook his head.

“No, that wasn't the reason. But if you have control of an army or two, why are you here, putting yourself in danger?”

Tony stared.

“You wanted me to infiltrate the Russian army so I could use it when you conveniently opened a portal for an alien army right on the Russian border?”

Loki gave him the small smile usually reserved for when Tony had taken something Loki had handed him.

“You and your friends were not strong enough to win this battle by yourselves,” he said. “Not even with your resources.”

“But why give me the tools to defeat your own army?” Tony asked. “There's a catch here, as in everything you do.”

“Oh yes,” Loki said, his grin turning predatory. “But pray, does that look like my army? Does it look to be under my control? Do you see me there at their head, giving orders?”

“You said you had an army.”

“So do you," Loki replied. "But would you call this Russian Army your own?”

“You what, you borrowed an alien army?! How do you even...?” Tony trailed off. “You did. You borrowed it. And now you're hoping we deal with it before you have to pay for it.”

Tony's chest hurt when Loki smiled at him, a small, mischievous smile.

“Look up,” the demigod said.

A huge alien ship, large enough to blot out the sun over where they were standing, was coming through the portal.

“The Chitauri army's real owner is there,” Loki said. “Protect the Earth, Tony. Or, at least, avenge it. Wasn't that how it went?”

“And what are you going to do?”

Loki shrugged, then with one graceful gesture he pierced the Tesseract with his sceptre. The beam of light went out at once and the portal began to close; the huge ship was still no more than half-way through.

“It will not be an easy battle,” Loki continued. “But if you thought you could face me, maybe you can face this.”

“Tony, did you do it? You did it!” Bruce said, jolting Tony's attention to his communicator. “The portal is closing. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I... I'll get back to you in a moment, buddy.”

Loki had taken the Tesseract out of Sëlvig's creation, and was putting it into the alien lamp he had been carrying. The chalky earth at his feet shimmered and Thor appeared there, still unconscious.

“What are you going to do?” Tony asked again, giving a step forwards.

"Stop," said Loki.

Tony stopped; not because of the threat of the sceptre or whatever weapons Loki carried, but because of the icy pressure inside his chest and the snap of Loki's voice against the tender parts of his mind.

“You have a battle to fight,” Loki reminded him, as he knelt to put one of the handles of the alien lamp in Thor's slack hand. “Now go and win it. For me, Tony.”

And, in a flash of blue light, he and Thor were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	9. Chapter 9

“I don't want to make sweeping generalisations,” Tony said, “but the Russians are an ungrateful bunch, aren't they?”

Bruce snorted a laugh. He looked tired: amongst other things, the Hulk had punched an alien ship on the face after Tony had lured it close to land.

“Well, you did infiltrate their army, freeze their nuclear arsenal, and start a war in their territory,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Alien invasion!” Tony squawked, gesturing out of the Helicarrier window. “Extenuating circumstances! I think I'm doing OK.”

“You are,” Steve said earnestly, walking into the room. “You definitely are, Tony.”

“Aw, Cap, you're such a sweet-talker!”

Behind Steve walked Romanoff and Barton; at least Fury was still busy giving explanations to the Russians for what Tony had done (for what Loki had told Tonyto do).

“So,” Barton started.

“Russian fighter jets have intercepted two of the three alien ships we couldn't stop here, before they could reach any big cities,” Steve said, pointing to the 3-D map displayed over the desk; all his diffidence and his discomfort with modern technology seemed to evaporate in the face of actual fighting. “Right now, the only one at large is, unfortunately, the largest ship, where the leader is supposed to be. There are also two swarms of individual Chitauri, here and here, and we'd do well assuming there are more Chitauri inside the ship.”

“The mothership is damaged, isn't it?” said Bruce. 

“Yes, a part of it was caught in the portal as it closed,” answered Black Widow. “It's still manoeuvrable, though, and I'm pretty sure it has more firepower than the Helicarrier.”

“The Chitauri swarms are converging on the big ship,” Barton pointed out. “Getting ready to flank it, probably.”

“They seem to be moving south, towards China. They're probably aiming for the big population centres. Fury wants us to stop it with as few civilian casualties as possible.”

“Has dropping nuclear bombs over cities gone out of fashion in the last couple of days, then?” Tony asked, never one to refrain from rocking the boat.

“Fury argued against the Council's decision,” Romanoff said, glaring at him.

“And did you? Did Barton? Or do you pawns not concern yourselves with the big decisions?”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, again the leader. “Let's focus on this first, yes?”

“You want me to focus? I'll tell you what we have: we don't have enough firepower to bring down the ship from afar and, at the current speed it's going, even crippled, it's going to reach Beijing in few hours. The swarms of Chitauri around it would stop a smart missile or a drone. Our only hope of bringing it down is to somehow get close enough to it, carrying a powerful enough explosive, and hoping that the fallout will not rain down anywhere too busy. Am I missing something?”

“I don't like what you're suggesting,” said Bruce, after a moment's pause.

“Who said I was suggesting anything?”

“You are. You're suggesting taking a nuclear missile and carrying it right into the Chitauri ship.” Bruce stared until Tony looked away. “Jesus, Tony, even if you made it in, you'd never get away from there in time.”

_The plan was never to get away from there, buddy, but thanks for stating the obvious._

“Well, Doctor Banner, dazzle me with a better idea.” Tony sat back and, for good measure, gave Bruce the jazz hands. “You have, oh, about an hour before I have to leave if I hope to get the ship over a relatively unpopulated territory.”

“Tony.” This was Steve, frowning.

“I believe you said something about the sacrifice play, Cap?”

“We'll find another way. We'll...” Steve trailed off.

Romanoff was watching Tony, considering, assessing; no disagreement would come from that quarter. Barton was also looking at him, frowning.

“Stark,” he said, but it was almost a question, and he shook his head after a moment and looked away; Tony made a mental note to avoid the man until he left the Helicarrier.

“One hour, boys and girl. And then we can meet here so you can tell me I'm right.”

Tony walked away. No one called him back; Bruce would be focusing on trying to find an alternate plan, Romanoff running to inform Fury, Steve wringing his hands in anguish, perhaps.

It had been as good a way of saying goodbye as any. Let them remember him as the inconsiderate, brilliant bastard who always had to have the last word. 

Tony walked into a bathroom and closed the door behind him; he leant on the tiny metal sink, splashed cold water on his face, took a deep breath, and looked up, into the mirror.

_I'm going to die. This is my last chance to be as dramatic as I want._

The pain inside his chest pulsed unrelentingly. Nothing had ever hurt like this, not the shrapnel, not the many happenings with the arc reactor, not the first touch of Loki's spear, nothing. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to simply exist. Tony had already lost count of how many times his vision had greyed out from pain, how many times he'd been about to pass out.

The door opened and Barton walked in.

“Stark.”

“Legolas. I thought I'd locked that door.”

“You did." Barton closed the door behind him. "Sëlvig is dead.”

“I know, I was there.”

“Cardiac arrest, they say. From the stress of being kidnapped.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. “He dropped dead the second Loki disappeared.”

“I thought so.” Clint nodded once. “How are you holding up?”

“I'll live,” Tony replied, and the bitter irony of this statement twisted his mouth.

“Yeah, but for how long?” Tony didn't answer; Barton turned towards the mirror and cleared his throat. “Stark, I know what you're going through.”

“Did Romanoff send you here to talk to me? Because, let me tell you, you make an awful spy.”

“Natasha still thinks that she fixed me.” Barton let out an exhale that was a much a laugh as it was a sob. “She cleared my head, yes. I'm not following that bastard's orders any more. But here...” Barton's hand was clutching the front of his uniform, above his heart. “I can still feel him, here. Or not feel him, as it is. I passed out when he left, did you know? Good thing Tasha was piloting.”

_Oh my God, you poor bastard. There goes my last hope of fixing this with a good blow to the head._

“So what, you want a hug? A pat on the back from your partner in mind-control?”

“No one wants a hug from you, Stark.”

Barton's pitiful attempt at his usual obnoxiousness was a breath of fresh air. Tony reminded himself where he was, what was happening: Helicarrier, alien invasion.

“Are you going to tell Fury?” he asked; he'd have five minutes if Barton did, maybe twenty if he didn't.

“What? That you lied to our faces, that you were actually touched by the sceptre all along? That, in spite of that, you closed the portal? Or that I can tell because I'm not as fine as everyone thinks I am?”

“Fine. You won't. Then keep your mouth shut, and get out of my way.”

“Stark, listen.” Barton ran a hand over his face. “Jesus fuck, why am I doing this? Stark, don't go all kamikaze because of this. I mean, I know how you feel, but it's bound to get better.”

“You really believe that?” Tony retraced his steps from the door to where Barton was standing, next to the sink. “Is that what you've been telling yourself all along, to get through this? That it's going to get better, that it's going to stop hurting, that one morning you'll wake up and won't remember? Newsflash, Barton, it's not going to happen. It's going to get worse. It'll never stop hurting. You'll never forget. There's always going be that small voice in the back of your head telling you to wait for Loki's orders before you do anything.”

Tony breathed harshly, realising that he had backed Barton against the wall. There were glimmers of blue in Barton's eyes, and Tony couldn't tell if they were reflections of his own.

“You think you can live like that?” he added for good measure as he stepped back. “Congratulations. But I can't and I won't.”

“Fine,” snarled Barton, shouldering past him. “Go and get yourself killed, you madman. I hope you enjoy it.”

_Oh, I intend to._

Even if Barton wasn't about to go and spill his guts to Fury or Romanoff, there was just no point in waiting; Tony would be better off inside the suit anyway, where JARVIS could take over if the pain got too much.

Getting out of the Helicarrier was child's play, launching one of the Russian missiles he still had on stand-by wasn't that much harder; Tony got JARVIS to set an intercepting course with the Chitauri ship and tried to think.

Or rather, he would have tried if Steve's voice hadn't come through his comm almost at once.

“Tony? Son of a gun... Tony, you didn't even give us an hour!”

“What can I say, Cap? I'm not the patient type.”

There was a pause and a sigh.

“You know that's a one-way trip, don't you?”

“You yourself made one of these, and you're still here,” Tony replied, through the pain in his chest that made it hard to breathe, let alone speak. “Tell you what, Cap, can you and Bruce keep an eye on the sensors for me? Keep me updated on the mothership's location and that of the swarms, you have better range than the suit.”

“Of course, Tony, we'll do that right away. And Bruce says that he'll try to keep the bomb from the Chinese radars for as long as he can.”

“Atta boy.” Tony breathed in. “JARVIS, cut off outgoing communications until I tell you. And if I pass out, keep us on course and try to wake me up.”

“Yes, sir. Are you sure about this, sir?”

“If I could come up with a better plan...”

_Really not a great plan... You think you can come up with a better one... Give me ten minutes and I can come up with ten better plans..._

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Sir?”

“Just rehearsing my death aria, JARVIS.”

“The missile is within sight, sir.”

“Got it.” It was surprisingly easy to fly under the missile and grab hold of it, slowing its momentum until it was little more than a very dangerous dead weight in the suit’s hands. “How much time left on the clock?”

“Detonation in four minutes, fifty-two seconds. Sir, we'll be reaching the outer range of the northernmost Chitauri swarm in about three minutes. Shall I try Miss Potts?”

In another life, Tony would have said yes. In another life, Tony would have wanted her face to be the last thing he saw, her voice the last thing he heard. But in this life, with the pain of Loki's absence flooding his chest, he couldn't stand the thought of having to lie any more.

“No, JARVIS. Let's keep it quiet. Well, maybe not so quiet.”

So, two hundred and fifty miles south of Ulaanbaatar, with AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' blasting through the suit's speakers and carrying a nuclear warhead, Tony Stark came in contact with was left of the Chitauri army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	10. Chapter 10

All the credit for weaving their way through the swarm of Chitauri rested on JARVIS’ incorporeal shoulders, with a few points given to Romanoff for her timely appearance piloting one of the Helicarrier’s jets and providing a distraction, but Tony was the one who spotted the perfect entry spot (amongst twisted metal and what might have been torn wiring, from the ship’s inelegant entry through the portal).

“Detonation in one minute, forty eight seconds,” JARVIS said, as Tony settled into what might have been a storeroom before it was ripped open; the nuclear warhead rested snugly by his side, already close enough to the ship deal all the damage necessary. “Sir, if you leave the bomb…”

“I won’t make it out of the blast zone in time, not even if we put everything in the thrusters.”

“You might if we turn the thrusters off completely.”

“How is dropping to my death in the Mongolian dessert any better than riding a nuclear warhead into fiery oblivion? Come on, JARVIS, where is your sense of dramatic? And don’t try to tell me you don’t have any.”

_Even if I managed to survive the fall, how long before Loki’s absence kills me? Better to die as a hero than a lovesick, brainwashed idiot._

“Have you considered the effects of the fallout, compounded by the interaction between the nuclear bomb and the arc reactor, sir?”

“Better a nuclear winter than an alien invasion, JARVIS. The weather patterns around the Himalayas should keep the worst of it off populated areas.”

“If you say so, sir. Detonation in fifty-seven seconds.”

“They must have noticed we’re here already. Anyone coming to make our last minute on Earth more exciting?”

“No, sir. Detonation in forty-nine seconds.”

“Any time you want to stop counting is fine by me, JARVIS.”

“Understood, s-…”

“You said no one was coming!” Tony protested as the ship shook around them like it was going through a particularly disgruntled blender.

“Atmospheric pressure and composition are changing, sir. The Earth’s magnetic field has disappeared.”

“We’re not in Kansas any more,” Tony breathed out, scrambling to look out.

Gone was the eye-searing blue of the sky above the Mongolian dessert. The space around him was dark and silent and alien in a way that made Tony want to close his eyes and never open them again.

“Sir.”

“I see it,” Tony said, his eyes on the rip in the darkness through which he could see what looked like sunlight and blue skies.

“No, sir, I mean we are losing power fast. Detonation in thirty-one seconds, the suit will be rendered inactive in twelve seconds.”

“Shit!”

Tony scrambled out of the Chitauri’s ship hold as the suit’s non-essential systems began to shut down at an alarming speed. There was no time for finesse; Tony threw himself off in the direction of the closing portal and hoped for the best.

“I completely forgot I was ready to die, JARVIS,” he said with a chuckle, as the suit’s HUD went dark and Tony lost all contact with the outside world.

If he was lucky, he’d go through the portal and plummet to an inelegant death somewhere over the China-Mongolia border; if he was unlucky, he’d experience first-hand the detonation of a nuclear warhead.

“… eight Mississippi, seven Mississippi, six Mississippi, five Mississippi, four Mississippi, three Mississippi, two Mississippi, one Mississippi…” Nothing. “Good, those would have been terrible last words. Now I have three minutes to think of better ones.”

JARVIS didn’t answer. The suit wasn’t coming back online. Tony was free-falling, blind, over Inner Mongolia.

On the bright side, the awful pain in his chest had disappeared as if it had never existed.

“Two minutes of respite before my death? How very considerate of Loki.”

The sudden impact of his back against something hard jarred him out of his contemplation. Either Tony’s calculations were very off (perish the thought), or he’d been lucky enough to hit something twenty-two thousand feet above ground.

_Surely Natasha won’t have hung around to wait for me._

Whatever it was, Tony’s descent had stopped and his ribs only felt bruised, maybe cracked. The day was definitely looking up, and more so when the jarring stop resolved itself into forward momentum without the terrifying component of succumbing to gravity with all the manoeuvrability and vision of a blind slug in a full-body cast.

When he and whatever his method of transportation was finally landed on firm ground, Tony Stark was light-headed, in pain, and so grateful he could have cried. 

There was a pull and a metallic tear he would have protested strenuously under any other conditions, and then the faceplate was off and sunlight and fresh air blinded him. He blinked away tears (because the pressure changes from falling thirty-five thousand feet would stimulate anyone's tear ducts) and looked up into Steve's battered face.

“What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

Steve smiled, relieved and exhausted a bit bemused.

“We won,” he said, and tried to help Tony sit up, in spite of the dead weight of what remained of his suit.

“Thor?” Tony asked when he could look up. “What the Hell? Does that horse have eight legs?”

***

After Tony had recovered from his improvised skydiving session (and goddamnit, Stark Industries was going to sponsor that Baumgartner guy who wanted to do something similar for fun) and his suit had been disposed of by Thor's expedient method of tearing it off like so much tissue paper, it was time for explanations. 

“Not that I object to suspiciously well-timed rescues,” Tony said, distractedly patting Thor's shoulder, “but there's excellent timing and then there's catching me as I fall from an inter-dimensional rift at cruising altitude.”

“And then there's the horse,” Bruce reminded him, trying to hide a laugh.

“The eight-legged horse, yes. I thought I had a concussion and was seeing double, but there's only one Nick Fury look-alike, so...”

“Tony Stark, this is my father, Odin Allfather,” Thor intervened. “Father, this is Tony Stark, the Man of Iron.”

“Hello,” said Tony, very graciously if you considered the circumstances and his usual reaction to father figures. 

“Tony Stark,” the man (the demi-god? The god? The creepy old one-eyed man?) replied. “I am pleased to see that you will bear no lasting damage from the actions of my son.”

“Don't worry, a few bruises are nothing compared to Thor's dashing rescue.”

“I meant Loki,” said Odin, as Steve gave Tony a significant look from behind the eight-legged horse.

“Oh?” Tony raised his eyebrows to their most obnoxious extreme. “I was under the impression that Loki wasn't your son.”

“Tony,” Steve said, at the same time that Thor said, “Stark!”

“And I take it that Loki isn't here to present his own apologies?” Tony continued. “Or to explain, although I'm starting to see that his inability to explain anything is something he must have learned as a child.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Bruce murmured. “Are you trying to make him angry?”

“I'm blaming everything on oxygen deprivation,” Tony replied out of the corner of his mouth.

“What, at the time of your birth?”

This startled a laugh out of Tony, and he didn't even bother trying to disguise it as a cough; he was alive, the world was relatively safe (the last Chitauri stragglers being chased by Romanoff and Barton), and the pain in his chest was gone. The glowering aliens could deal.

“It's been kind of a long day,” he said, still chuckling, mostly because Steve was glaring too. “Alright, Hey. Alright. Good job, guys. Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day off.”

“We're not finished yet,” said Thor, and Tony's little gigglefest died a sudden death.

“Alright.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, hard. “Where is Loki?”

“That's what we were hoping you would tell us, Tony Stark,” said Thor, looking earnest.

“Me?!” If Tony's hand had gone straight to rest over the arc reactor, he blamed it on his deep-rooted tendency to act like the heroine of a bodice-ripper. “Why me?”

“Captain America said that you had followed him out here.”

“Ye-es,” Tony admitted. “But the transmitter I put on him went offline the moment he disappeared with the Tesseract, and with you, big guy. I'm assuming he took you home? How come you couldn't keep him there?”

Thor exchanged a look with Odin, looking rather sheepish; Steve, now that the diplomatic crisis seemed to be averted, was patting the eight-legged horse and murmuring what seemed like praises in its ear.

“I was still not awake when Loki transported us to Asgard, thanks to the filters they gave me at Shield,” Thor said, his eyes darkening in anger. “He left before the guards could alert Father.”

“Did he take the Tesseract with him?” asked Bruce, and Tony reined in on the urge to hit him. It was a logical question to ask, it was the question Tony should have asked.

“No,” said Odin. “He left the Tesseract at his brother's feet, like an offering. Asking for forgiveness, I imagine.”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as he discreetly stepped backwards, right onto Bruce's foot.

_Fucking ruthless bastard. It's not a gift, it's trap. The Tesseract is easy to follow, easy to find, and we're not the only ones who'll be looking for it._

“So, we can't track him, and it'll be no use tracking the Tesseract,” he said loudly, over Bruce's 'ouch!'. “Can't see how we can find him if he doesn't want to be found, then.”

Bruce gave him a quick look, then shook his head.

“What Tony said,” he murmured. “He's probably not on Earth any more, and we don't have sensors with a wider range than that.”

“Exactly.” Tony managed to look regretful for about three seconds. “But, Point Break, I'm genuinely grateful for the rescue.”

“You need not be,” Thor replied with a smile. “I understand it was you who freed me from Shield's lair.”

“Oh no, I just... provided a timely distraction. Smoke, mirrors, that kind of thing.”

Thor's face did something complicated then.

“You remind me of Loki,” he said, in what must have passed as a low voice in Asgard. “And believe me when I say that is the highest praise I can offer.”

Horrifyingly, Tony felt his eyes water again. The field where they were standing was rather dusty and windy, so he just coughed and blinked several times.

“Actually, most of the rescue was was Steve. Yeah, you should direct all your thanks to him. Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, big guy, but Steve... he's your hero.”

“I have indeed thanked the Captain already,” Thor said. “For one, he wielded Mjolnir with as much bravery as anyone in our household ever could.”

“Oh gosh, please, no, I didn't know what I was doing,” Steve replied, beginning to flush under the looks Thor and Odin were giving him. “I just...” 

“That's our hero,” Tony interrupted, before Steve brought up Loki. “Now, what do you say we get on a plane... yes, all of us, even the eight-legged horse... and go back home? Since Stark Tower is still standing, it'd be a shame not to offer you all my hospitality. I think we've all earned a break.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for the last chapter! Expect the epilogue (yes, there WILL be Loki) in a couple of days!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.  
> 


	11. Epilogue - One Year Later

_I can’t sleep. And when I do, I have nightmares. Honestly, there’s a hundred people who want to kill me..._

Tony took a sip of scotch and leant back on his chair. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept more than one hour before waking up with a scream tangled half-way up his throat, a sharp pain in his chest, and the taste of ozone on his lips. The world had taken on a hazy, distant quality. 

The penthouse was dark, empty, quiet. The silence was jarring after so many days and nights in which the place had been full of light and noise and people. 

First, the Asgardian delegation, eight-legged horse and all, with Thor booming congratulations to everyone and Odin's judgemental presence permeating the atmosphere; Tony had used all his diplomacy to convince them not to declare war on S.H.I.E.L.D. for their mishandling of their Crown Prince, and in return had extracted from Fury a rather begrudging pardon for everyone's actions before and during the Chitauri chaos. Odin had left quickly after that, but Thor and some of this friends had stayed for a while, not so subtly waiting for Loki to appear or Tony to come up with a way to trace him. They had been disappointed.

When the Asgardians had left, with half-hearted promises of mutual gratitude and future help, Bruce and Steve stayed, both trying to find their feet, both feeling oddly indebted to Tony. But they left too, after a while, Bruce to settle his affairs in India, Steve aiming for a motorcycle tour of America; both had Tony's number in their pocket and both had promised to return, but...

After they had left, Tony had taken Coulson home, spirited him away from the military hospital in New Jersey and into the biggest guest room in the penthouse, with the best, most discreet nursing staff money could buy. The bridges with S.H.I.E.L.D. were burnt beyond recognition anyway and Coulson, when he woke up at last, hadn't seemed to mind.

Barton had visited often, then. Sometimes, the three of them sat on the terrace, pretending they didn't remember the touch of an ice-cold sceptre, happy to make it look as if the blue glimmers in their eyes were nothing more than the reflection of the city sky above them.

It didn't hurt any more, but that didn't mean it was gone.

_The sceptre, it touches everyone differently._

Coulson's massive scar was a tangible reminder of what they'd gone through. Phil often rested his hand on it like Tony did on the arc reactor, no doubt feeling the point where the sceptre had just nicked his heart as it impaled him; he'd gone into cardiac arrest when Loki had left Earth, only surviving because he was already in hospital and more stubborn than was good for him. Since he'd woken, Phil had not mentioned Loki's name, not even once. He hadn't needed to, with the company he'd kept.

But Phil had healed too, and Barton (on enforced leave from S.H.I.E.L.D., sullen and angry and restless in his own skin) took him away, looking for sunny weather and forgetfulness in a place where nothing reminded them of what had happened, of who they were still missing like a part of themselves.

Pepper only visited to pick up her things and get Tony to sign important documents. Every time, Tony let her go with mixed relief and guilt, knowing she deserved better, well-aware he couldn't give her anything that Loki hadn't taken (and discarded) first. He'd kept her safe, and he'd continue doing so while he could.

So now he sat, alone in the dark, and drank.

The world was safe. Manhattan bustled around him, already having forgotten the danger it had narrowly avoided and the sacrifices made in the name of all the people in a hurry, all the Starbucks and the shawarma joints and the street vendors.

And Tony couldn't sleep.

He decided to try anyway. There was a certain consolation to be found in the nightmares, a familiarity in the ice around his heart, a twisted joy in the split-second of seeing Loki before the pain started. Tony didn't have anything else.

He made his way to his bedroom in the dark, taking the scotch with him. Maybe he'd tell JARVIS to play some music that would wake him up before the nightmares got too bad. Maybe he'd lie in bed all night, staring at the ceiling, drinking and remembering until the world got more blurry than it already was.

He stood in the doorway and stared.

“That armour can't be comfortable to sleep in,” he said after a minute.

Loki was sitting on the edge of Tony’s bed, elbows resting on his knees, his head between his hands; he looked up when he heard Tony's voice, and grinned.

“What makes you think I came here to sleep?”

“What makes you think I'm not going to kick your ass out of here?”

Loki stood up, pretending to think about his answer as he walked towards Tony.

“Do you want me gone?” he asked at last, stopping just short of touching Tony.

Something icy and painful inside Tony's chest unfurled in Loki's presence, reaching for Loki with a desperation that forced Tony to curl his hands into fists to stop himself from grasping Loki's shoulders.

“Why did you come back? What is there left here that you want?” he asked instead.

“Everything,” Loki whispered in Tony's ear, and Tony stepped back, pride be damned. “I left to draw attention away from this realm, but you knew that, did you not?”

“Yeah, I must say that giving the traceable crime weapon to Odin as a gift was a nice touch.”

Loki smiled, boyish and mischievous and obviously pleased with the compliment. Tony started smiling back, then bit his lip to stop it.

“So, this is your version of slumming it, then? Come to the backwater realm to lie low while someone else deals with the mess you've made?”

For a second, it looked like Loki was going to get angry: he frowned and the line of his jaw tensed in a way that promised not violence but cruelty. But the moment passed, and Loki smiled again.

“So what if my enemies would do battle amongst themselves? Let Thanos tear down Asgard, or Asgard mow down Thanos. I will have nothing to mourn either way.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief. 

_You brilliant, beautiful, ruthless, mad bastard._

“I daresay you missed me,” Loki said, half-gleeful and half what looks like genuinely surprised.

“Hard not to, with the way your damn sceptre left its mark inside me...”

Loki kissed him, tasting of metal, ozone and a lingering sweetness that Tony had missed more than he'd missed sleep, peace of mind, or that damn feeling of belonging to Loki, of being in the right place only when Loki's hands were on him.

“Stop fighting it,” Loki said between kisses. “Stop being angry.” And he was laughing, the bastard, laughing against Tony's mouth. “You're mine, I told you, you're mine.”

“The fuck I am.”

Loki laughed again, and his armour was gone and so were most of Tony's clothes. Soon Tony would be covered in bruises again, covered in the ghosts of those cold, clever fingers.

“I could make you,” Loki whispered, as if it were a secret. “I could reach inside your chest and twist, and you heart would turn to mine like a plant turning to the sun. You think I owned you before? That was nothing, nothing but a suggestion compared to what I could have done, to what I could do still... but isn't this easier? Isn't this better?”

“It might be if you shut up,” Tony grumbled, and Loki laughed, brilliant and sharp, and for once did as he was told, murmuring the rest of his secrets right into Tony's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this story comes to an end! Thank you so much for reading along. Every kudos made me smile, every comment made me do the Happy Author Dance. I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing and positing it!
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, whether it's constructive criticism, corrections, suggestions, or happy flailing.


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